Pokémon AU snippet
by pwmo
Summary: Collection of snippets about a Pokémon AU where characters keep their canon powers/enhancements but they also have Pokémons. Part of a larger work on which I'm currently working. Rated T for safety measures.
1. Chapter 1

**Unexpected Friend**

Through the large window in the lab, M-21's gaze follows the intense session of fetch Takeo and his Pidgeotto are currently having. Their voices don't reach, but Takeo's face is one of utter amusement, and whenever he throws the disk in the air and Pidgeotto storms to take it, he bursts out in laughter and showers his companion with pats.

M-21 watches and admits to himself that he is jealous. Being a low-ranking failed experiment didn't give him the rights to have a Pokémon companion. He always watched Jake and his furious Kabutops butcher people and Pokémons alike, mercilessly, with crude brutality and delight. He feared Mari's Persian and how it was always too quiet to hear it coming, and how evil its eyes looked. They were not evil Pokémon in origin, but they were trained to hate and kill, and they were extremely swift at fulfilling their duties.

But if the Union was a terrible example on how to train and raise Pokémons, the place he is now is a totally different matter: he has seen Frankenstein feeding warm poffins to his Giratina – a _Legendary Pokémon_ , dammit! - and treating Pokémons he stole from the Union for reintroduction-in-society purposes; he has seen Raizel, a man who was fated to die because of his tremendous power, managing to make even the most vicious, most dangerous Pokémon warm up to him. He sees Takeo and Tao playing with their Pokémon companions – the ones assigned to them by the Union, Pokémons that they treated with respect and protected – every day, smiling and laughing and causing a mess inside the house.

Pokémons don't like him. Frankenstein had spent days trying to find him a perfect companion that could also help him cope with his trauma, but wild Pokémons could feel what he was, and they stayed out of his way and became hostile. The only ones not fearing him are his friends' Pokémons – Frankenstein and the others often insisted to gift him theirs or to share, but M-21 always refused. He was not going to deprive his friends of their only companions, and was even less inclined to take a healthy Pokémon away from the hands of a caring trainer like Frankenstein. He was meant to be alone, and M-21 accepted his fate without putting up a fight. After all, it was better this way. He did not want to be miserable if something happened to his Pokémon, and didn't want his Pokémon to be miserable if something happened to him. Death, to M-21, was simply a matter of "when".

He still feels lonely from time to time, despite having accepted the truth as it is. He is surrounded by people that care for him and Pokémons that like his scratches, and yet, it does not fill the empty hole inside his chest.

He hears Tao approaching and quickly moves away from the window, faking interest for one of Frankenstein's scientific books he happens to spot on the table. It's about eggs, and M-21 doesn't understand a single word, but as long as he looks occupied, Tao won't ask questions.

"Oh, M-21, didn't see you here!" Tao greets, followed by his Raichu jumping around and complaining. About what, M-21 hasn't the slightest idea, but Tao seems to understand him just fine and hands out a candy, promptly devoured. "Are you up for some water games outside? Pidgeotto stole the pipe Frankenstein uses to water his flowers and has declared war against us, it's going to get messy!" he adds with an impish smile and rubs his hands together as if having some kind of secret super plan to overthrow the flying tyrant.  
M-21 sighs and puts down the book: "Frankenstein won't like it if you mess up his garden."

"We won't!" Tao reassures, but M-21 knows that a water fight will undoubtedly cause an indecent mess that will later lead to Frankenstein having them clean everything by hand. Tao clasps his hands and makes him puppy eyes, and his Raichu proceeds to do the same, jumping on his lap and peering at his face from up close.

Uncomfortable, M-21 shifts on the chair and stands up. "No, thanks," he says to a pouting Tao, "I wanted to go on a walk anyway. You guys have fun, okay?"

Raichu loudly protests, but Tao shushes him down and gives M-21 a thumbs-up. Having escaped from another social event, M-21 heads toward the safe path that leads to the pond.

* * *

The pond is a quiet place he likes to go when he feels thoughtful, or worried, or when he wants to be left alone. The household is lively, but it can get a bit overwhelming and M-21 needs some time out to unwind. Frankenstein was the one who told him about the place, having noticed how stressful it was for him, who was not used to have so many people around, suddenly being literally surrounded. That man might be a bit rough on the edges when it comes to human relationships, but no one can deny he is an observant caretaker.

A flock of Spearows flies above his head, temporarily clouding the sun. It's then that he notices something erratically moving in the water, splashing around and squealing desperately. M-21 stands from the patch of grass he was sprawled on and tries to get a look on what is happening, thinking it might be a Pokémon hunting. It's not: the high-pitched, frantic cries speak of distress. Something is in danger. M-21 rushes along the pond to see a young Starly flapping its wet wings trying to escape from the water, its body too heavy for the Pokémon to lift.

M-21 wonders what to do. His first instinct is to dive into the water and bring the Pokémon to safety, but he is also aware that, sensing the abomination he is, the Pokémon will only become more agitated and worsen its already grim situation. Maybe he can call Frankenstein and ask to have one of his Pokémons help out, but what if it doesn't make it in time? M-21 can't stand being useless and watch as a small, innocent, scared creature dies before his eyes. He's seen enough of it already.

The water isn't too cold even though it's barely April. M-21 doesn't have to swim too long before he's close to the squealing Starly, and the water only reaches his shoulders when he stops to put his feet down. For a moment, M-21 hesitates.

"It's gonna be fine," he voices, both to himself and the Pokémon, reaching out with cupped hands. The Starly whimpers and squeals, but does not fight or resist being lifted by two foreign hands. It's probably too scared, M-21 thinks to himself as he glides through the water with the small dripping thing in hand, to focus on sensing his aura. It looks young, flapping his wings with the strength of something that desperately wants to survive. M-21 knows what it feels like, longing to live so much to make you fight against the stronger forces pulling you down.

He reaches the shore and struggles to climb out, clothes wet and heavy, but through trial and error, they both manage to get on safe, dry ground.

"You're safe now," he says. The Starly ruffles his feather and sprinkles water everywhere around, then looks at him and cocks its small round head, squealing once. "You can go home," M-21 adds with a huff and unbuttons his clothes. They will never dry properly if he doesn't squeeze the water out of the fabric, and Frankenstein can forgive wrinkles - if given some time - but _not_ clothes that smell like seaweeds.

Starly is still there watching him with enraptured curiosity as if M-21 was some sort of new, interesting wonder. He's not really comfortable, but does wonder why the _hell_ the small young thing has not stormed away from his ugly aura yet.

"Haven't you heard me? You are safe now. Your parents must be looking for you. Go," he motions Starly to get away with his hands, but the bird Pokémon only seems even more interested and tries to peck – with no intention of causing harm, M-21 recognizes – at his long fingers.

He tries again, but Starly keeps coming back. When he lays on the grass to wait for his clothes to dry, the bird starts pecking at his hair. Every attempt to send it off results in a big failure, as it appears that Starly isn't interested in leaving his side any time soon.

"You aren't going to leave me alone, are you?" he asks somehow exasperated to it, as Starly cutely jumps around, chirping happily, pecking at his wet clothes. It doesn't answer; instead, it clumsily flies in his lap and rubs against his skin.

He doesn't know what to do. His hands hover around that round body for a moment, unsure, and then land on the soft plumage. They sink in the soft feathers, and M-21 can feel the fast heartbeat of the creature through his palms.

They remain like that for a long time, M-21 shirtless and still gazing at the top of the trees and clouds, Starly propped on his chest, still, chirping quietly as to not disturb his rest. It did not try to leave, and M-21 has stopped trying to send it off. Instead, sometimes mindlessly brushes its feathers and accepts tiny gentle pecks. It feels good to have something this soft and vulnerable putting its trust in his hands. It feels good to have the chance to experience this feeling firsthand. Will Starly follow him home, or will they part ways the moment he needs to go back?

When Tao calls to tell him they're preparing dinner, and that Frankenstein wants him home to give a hand, M-21 grabs his clothes and then, gentler, picks Starly up to his face.

"I have to go home," he tells to a squealing Starly. "You do what you want," he adds, putting it back on the ground. He doesn't want to see it go back to where it belongs, and so turns and starts walking.

Starly isn't following, M-21 checks a few times on the road back home. It was supposed to be like this, he's not disheartened: he got more than he could ever hope to receive, and it's satisfying. It's enough.

But then, as he starts to see the lights of his house, a gentle weight settles on his left shoulders, followed by a high-pitched chirp. Starly looks at his profile with its glimmering black eyes; M-21 stares back and, relaxing, offers the Pokémon a tiny smile.

With renowned confidence, he moves toward the house. Frankenstein will help him figure out all he needs to know about his new partner.

* * *

 _The idea was stuck in my head after discussing it on Discord with_ qdeanna _. The AU prompt was "Pokémon AU but with characters having the canon powers and dynamics". Get yourself a totally_ unbetaed _and random M-21 fluffy snippet. I'd like to write more about this AU, so expect to see more of it._

 _You can find this on my tumblr profile, too!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Guardian Angel**

Frankenstein has lost all kind of time perception while trudging through the thigh-high thick layer of snow. All is white around, above, and below him. Like Thumbelina, he leaves behind a trail – not of bread crumbs, but of blood – and pushes forward, weak, the wind violently blowing against him, a cold whip on his exposed skin.

When he falls down, he knows hypothermia is already creeping on his body. He has less than half an hour to stand up again and start moving before cold shock strikes in. Frankenstein tries; his legs are too weak, and so falls face-down into the snow.

 _I'm already dead_ , he tells himself, weakly clawing at the icy ground, crawling. His mind flies to someone far, far away that is waiting for him to return – to whom he has promised to return. From the other side of the world, he begs for forgiveness. He will not come home.

And if it's not the cold, it will be whatever has been following him since after the fight that will kill him. Frankenstein's aura becomes more sensitive when he's weakened or wounded, and it picked up the presence of another living being almost immediately. He tries to reach out for one of his Pokéballs, but he can't feel his hands anymore. If only he could call for help… But since it might be his enemies or a wild Pokémon, it would be wiser not to catch their attention. It's either death or being captured and tortured. Frankenstein always knew it would end in one of these two ways, he never hoped for a happy ending.  
It's close to him now. He can feel its scorching, unnatural warmth melting the snow. It must be a dream, some sort of hallucination induced by the shortage of oxygen; his tired mind can't come out with any plausible explanation other than this.

Something soft nuzzles his wet head and chin. It feels warmer than anything else he's ever touched - even warmer than the Alolan beaches, or the volcanic Seafoam Islands, or Firestones - and soft, soft as the most luxurious furs.

A quiet whine that sounded miles away farther becomes an insistent whimpering close to his ears. Opening his eyes takes forever, eyelashes already covered in tiny icicles; the first thing he sees is something extremely _yellow_ , with glimmering red beads pointed in his direction.

A bark. A pink tongue lapping his face. The yellow Pokémon pawing at his body and barking wildly; then, biting his shirt with strong, sharp teeth that swiftly avoid his flesh, it starts pulling and dragging him in the snow.

Frankenstein doesn't oppose. If his fate is to be devoured by some wild Pokémon on the road to Snowpoint City, so be it. It's actually better than the other options on the table and at least it will be quick. But the way this particular Pokémon has handled him so far does not show hostility or hunger; it's like it's actively trying to _save_ him, making sure he's alive. Could it be some ranger's rescue Pokémon?

He does not know how long the Pokémon drags him. His whole body is dripping, freezing, the fabric of his clothes hardened to the point of being painful. He's lost his bag long before fainting, long before making his way through the snow, long before… He should have gotten rid of his clothes. They're too wet to keep him warm - they're actually killing him faster – but he thought he could make it to the nearest village. Clearly, he miscalculated the distance.

A flash of red and yellow, a wave of intense heat, and Frankenstein realizes the Pokémon used Flamethrower against the snow and cleared the way. The Pokémon does that three more times during their trip, until Frankenstein sees a cave free from snow, probably the home of some local species, and relief passes through him like electricity.

The yellow Pokémon resumes his dragging until Frankenstein is safely inside the cave, where the ground isn't wet and the stone keeps the freezing wind away. The Pokémon paces relentlessly next to his limp body; he tries to reassure it that he's alive but no words come out of his mouth and his limbs refuse to move. It storms where Frankenstein can't follow with his eyes, returning with a big log in its mouth, placing it down close to him before using Ember. The fire crackles and it's such a relieving sound Frankenstein thinks he could fall asleep to this. He doesn't: sleeping in his condition means certain death, and he does not want to go away like this. Not now that there is the smallest chance of getting out of this most unpleasant situation.

His sight clears. Frankenstein sees nine long, plush tails and a canine body: a Ninetales, but just not _any_ Ninetales. He smiles as his body erupts in violent shivers. Ninetales barks and he gets to see the elegant gold-trimmed black leather collar the Pokémon wears, the collar he made for her almost nine centuries ago as a gift.

Ninetales climbs atop him, resting every inch of her lustrous fur on his body, and yawns. The fire crackles near them, powerful and red and so incredibly _hot_.

He'll live.

* * *

Still don't know where this fits chronologically speaking, but I'll figure it out when I get to work on the big thing!


	3. Chapter 3

**Caring**

He's sore from the flight home and the makeshift dressing constantly brushing against the open wounds, irritating the already sensitive skin beneath. His overall appearance perfectly matches with Tom Hanks' in _Cast Away:_ dirty hair, torn and bloodied clothes, and a rough and unpleasant stubble already regrowing on his face. He _loathes_ the latter the most. It makes him look unkempt and, honestly, it doesn't even look that good on his face. That's why he spends so much time, effort, and money, to have the perfect skincare and shaving tools.

Ninetales pads inside the house with effortless elegance and disappears inside one of the hallways, headed to an unknown destination. Frankenstein doesn't follow; instead, he takes a moment to inhale the scent of _home_ and relax. Leaning on the marble kitchen counter he breathes, muscles strained under the bandages – he knows he'll find new, fresh blood staining the white fabric when he'll undress – and waits for his eyes to get accustomed to the darkness.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

The house is quiet. Barefoot, he slowly makes his way to the living room holding his shoes in one hand; if someone is still awake despite the late hours, Frankenstein doesn't want them to notice he has returned and see how he looks. He doesn't want them to worry about his conditions.

A lonely, solid figure sits on the couch with Ninetales at their feet and stands when Frankenstein steps into the living room. He isn't scared by the sudden movement; he walks up to the figure feeling a little self-conscious, not to mention guilty, offering a small smile and crouching down to pat Ninetales' head. His muscles scream and he can feel something wet staining his shirt but ignores the feeling for the sake of thanking his guardian angel. The figure doesn't interrupt but gazes at him with unlimited sweetness, a sweetness Frankenstein can feel as if it was physically weighing on his body.

When he stands again, the figure is already tightly wrapped in his arms. Frankenstein tried to discourage the action – Heaven forbids blood ruins his Master's shirt! - but his silent plea was shushed, and Raizel is returning the hug just as tight. It hurts a little bit, but Frankenstein swallows the pain and buries his face in Raizel's shoulder, murmuring a soft "I'm back" in his hair.

When he starts to say he's sorry, Raizel interrupts again.

"The bath is ready. We will discuss everything tomorrow, when you are rested, clean, and your wound is properly taken care of."

He is lead to the bathroom and Raizel helps him undress and remove the gauze, fingers barely grazing against his skin. When he's done, Frankenstein enters the shower to get rid of the dirt from his hair and then uses a sponge to clean around the wound. Raizel doesn't move except to help him enter the bath, sitting next to him and occasionally handing hygiene products or rubbing places Frankenstein alone can't reach. His muscles sing as warm water engulfs his body, releasing the tension caused by the cold-induced contraction, as he leans back with his eyes closed and exhales.

Raizel rubs shampoo in his hair and massages his scalp, doing the same with the natural conditioner Frankenstein carefully prepares himself, long fingers extricating the knots and combing the strands until they're smooth and soft. Sometimes he asks "Am I doing it right?" and Frankenstein finds it very cute.

"I appreciate you sending Ninetales to help me," he tells to Raizel as the water swirls down the drain and he stands, reaching for a towel.

"I did not send her," Raizel answers, wrapping a smaller towel around Frankenstein's hair and placing the shaving kit on the sink. "But I am glad she was there for you."

Frankenstein turns, puzzled; he's met with Raizel's unimpressed expression.

"Your good intentions and recklessness often lead to you getting injured, and she appears to be greatly worried for your safety. Following you was her own decision, but I admit to being aware that this is not the first time."

"It's not?" Confusion and surprised passed, and now Frankenstein is rubbing shaving cream on his chin and cheeks, "I never noticed."

Raizel takes the razor from his hands and starts shaving him, eyes following the movements of the tool. Frankenstein is absorbed by the slow motions, the way the blade presses on his skin but does not chafe, by how Raizel looks enraptured by the simple act of dabbing water off his face.

"She is exceptional," Raizel says with pride. Ninetales is, indeed, exceptional. Frankenstein is perfectly aware of how naturally intelligent the species is and yet, he can't help but feel amazed in front of such displays.

His thoughts are interrupted by Raizel placing a light peck on his freshly shaved cheek that now smells of aftershave. He hands him clean underwear and pants, which Frankenstein promptly wears, wincing as he has to slightly bend to pull them up; Raizel tends to the wound by wrapping clean gauze over it, patient and gentle like the water that embraced his body just a few minutes before.

"Let's get you to bed, now."

* * *

 _I love them too much I'm sorry_

 _A direct continuation of Chapter 2, "Guardian Angel"._


	4. Chapter 4

**Celebrity**

Takeo _loves_ the household. He loves having the single room with the small balcony where his succulents grow strong and healthy. He loves waking up early in the morning for a healthy run and taking a shower without having to rush it. His ten-steps hair care routine requires a little more time than what the others deem "necessary" - they don't have his long hair, so what would they know?

He loves when Frankenstein is the one cooking breakfast because it means they will actually get to _eat_ something instead of simply chugging the lukewarm coffee prepared the day before. He loves playing cards against Raizel when they have some time off from training, research, or the Union; for someone so kind and quiet, the Master of the house is _merciless_ when it comes to _Uno_.

He loves that he was able to become friends with Tao, a former teammate he had spoken to maybe three times at best, and former low-ranking cannon-fodder agent M-21. That night on the rooftop, with Frankenstein looming over him like a Grim Reaper and his Pidgeotto subdued by Giratina's power, Takeo made peace with the thought that his life was about to end. Not only he did _not_ die, but he also gained a home and a family. Sort of.

And he loves them all dearly, Takeo reminds himself. Every single one of the inhabitants of the house, he loves them. But if Tao doesn't stop bursting into his room shouting and without knocking, Takeo will have one less person to love and worry about.

"Sorry, Takeo. I tried to hold him back," M-21 excuses himself as he follows Tao into his room, sighing.

Takeo brushes him off shaking his head. "Shoot him in the leg next time, I'm sure Frankenstein will understand."

Tao seems electric for some reason. Normally, Takeo would not inquire: it takes far too _little_ to get Tao excited and usually it's for things that fall in the "this will get us murdered" category. And Takeo would rather not.

But of course, it's not like not asking will save him and M-21 from being pulled into his crazy plans.

"So I was really bored today – no training, no classes, no new Trainers to scare, Frankenstein tending to the garden – so I started surfing the net searching for random stuff and I thought to myself, why don't I try to look us up on Google? And I did! Obviously, we're not there because of security measures, even though Frankenstein did include us in the personnel of his Laboratory under aliases, but I thought that it would be fun anyway!" He pulls out his smartphone and jumps on Takeo's bed without a care, fingers typing something on the screen. Takeo meets M-21's eyes and they exchange a long, exhausted look before laying next to Tao on both sides. They don't exactly snuggle, but the bed _is_ a single, so they're cramped on the tiny mattress.

Tao resumes without raising his eyes: "I even thought about searching sir Raizel up but it didn't feel like a good idea so I scratched him out of my list, and that brought me to..." he makes some annoying noises with his voice as his fingers move erratically on the screen of his phone, and then turns the screen to him and M-21.

"Tada!" he says, concluding with a terrible vocal rendition of the _20_ _th_ _Century Fox_ tune.

The first thing Takeo sees is a large-size picture of Frankenstein wearing his signature smirk in HD. Seriously, the quality is so _high_ that Takeo can distinguish every single one of the golden hair on his head.

"Professor Lee, a certified member of the Pokémon League," Tao reads out loud, "and qualified Pokémon Professor. Specialized in Pokémon genetics and evolution, has 12 official publications under his name - a demonstration of the incredible devotion, dedication, and skill. Chairman of the top ranking Pokémon school, five times League Champion, head of the most prestigious research laboratory in the country..."

The list is never-ending. Frankenstein is the winner of around twenty different scientific awards, had occupied all the possible leading positions in all the fields of his studies, is renowned for the rates of former students becoming famous, world-wide recognized Trainers, and his _Wikipedia_ page – yes, he has an official _Wikipedia_ page – also states that he has undefeated records in both Pokémon Contests and Pokéathlon.

"I didn't make him the type to participate in Contests, to be honest," Tao blinks, scrolling down the list of all the many wonderful things he has done. Which, considered Frankenstein is two thousand years old, are just a _fraction_ of Frankenstein's successes.

M-21 turns to face him, almost scandalized. "Are you kidding? As vain as he is, I'm surprised he isn't hosting one in his lounge right now!"

Everyone nods to M-21's words. Frankenstein is a great man, an amazing fighter, and one of the _vainest_ persons Takeo has ever met. No one gets dressed to go to a fight – no one puts on an Italian Bespoke striped suit only to have it _shredded_ to pieces except Frankenstein, because he is beautiful and rich and can afford to lose $15,000 of fabric and craftsmanship. He wouldn't dare fight his enemies without being dressed to kill – literally and metaphorically speaking. He is a man of class, after all.

"That man is crazy," M-21 sighs, showing a mix of concern and fear. "Trust me, I've been here longer than you, you don't know the things I've seen."

"Like what?"

M-21 deadpans, looking Tao in the eyes, his gaze unwavering. "You don't want to know," he spells out, jumping off the bed and smoothing the fabric of his jeans.

Takeo does the same, braiding his hair to keep them tidy and out of his eyes. Gesturing to the door he smiles to his friends and offers one hand to help Tao get off his bed.

"Come on," he tells them, "let's go ask him if it's true."

* * *

Frankenstein is in his office when they knock, reading the results of a new research and filling forms for new Pokémons in rehab. He looks up from behind his silver-rimmed glasses with a questioning expression, beckoning them all inside with the gesture of a hand.

"We're sorry to disturb you, Frankenstein," Takeo offers when Tao steals a chair and sits down without giving any explanation, causing the man to raise his eyebrow even higher. If he keeps it up, it will end up being part of his hairline.

"It was Tao's idea," M-21 scoffs, leaning against the wall and trying to look uninterested when he is, instead, very much curious about the whole 'our-landlord-is-a-VIP!' thing. "Just saying this in case you're planning to murder us for interrupting."

Frankenstein snickers and puts the papers aside, stirring his back. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit? Is there something bothering you?"

Tao shakes his head, pulls out his phone, types something and then turns it toward Frankenstein.

Takeo observes: Frankenstein's eyes scurry on the screen and in his eyes shines a mischievous, proud light; his lips quirk in a smirk, and he laughs quietly to himself as he goes on.

When Tao takes the phone away, Frankenstein exhales almost dreamily.

"We knew you were amazing, Boss," Tao starts, light in his eyes, "but this is much more than we expected! You are a _superstar!_ "

Frankenstein does that thing with his face he does when he wants others to not notice how immensely _pleased_ is ego is. Takeo doesn't know how to properly explain the shift in expression, but he knows what it means.

"Oh, please, you're flattering me!" Frankenstein waves his hand in the universal 'oh, _please_!' gesture, lying. He isn't flattered; on the contrary, knowing him, Frankenstein was just waiting to be asked about it so he could have a reason to show off. "It's nothing extraordinary!" he lies again, hand covering his mouth as he laughs. Such a diva.

"If you are interested, I can show you my little collection!" he says when he's finished faking modesty, standing from his chair and walking toward one of the walls. From the corner of his eyes, Takeo sees M-21 mouth ' _little_ ' with the most disgusted expression he has ever seen on his face and drawing quotation marks with his fingers to prove his point.

The wall Frankenstein has approached turns out to be some sort of high-tech, super invisible safe – it opens like a hangar door, revealing a smaller room, empty save from a huge display case right in the middle.

They follow him inside, cramped in the narrow space. Takeo watches in awe and horror the shiny, obsessively organized rows of badges and ribbons, the statuettes, the plaques and scrolls, and all the varieties of shapes Awards and official recognitions come in. Even the oldest prizes – one dates back to 1479! - are perfectly polished and without a scratch, looking as new as if Frankenstein won them the day before.

Frankenstein hands them a thick notebook with a smile; M-21 opens it and his eyes grow impossibly large before narrowing down in despise. It's the book where Frankenstein has recorded every single prize, award and the likes; M-21 reads it out loud, his tone gradually becoming more frustrated as he turns page after page and realizes he's gotten only to the second row and there's still fifty pages left to read.

"Is there something you didn't _win_?" exasperated, he gestures toward the display case.

Frankenstein holds his chin pensive, aimlessly pacing around the desk; when he stops, he's wearing a smile that says he knows he should feel sorry but he really, really doesn't. The vain, self-confident bastard.

"You have the ' _Pokéblock Master Award'_!" M-21 points to a square-shaped badge decorated with a purple ribbon, scandalized. "I didn't even know it existed!"

The only reaction he elicits from Frankenstein is an unapologetic shrug of shoulders and another half smile. "It doesn't," the man says, holding his palms up in a nonchalant manner. "The League had it custom made for me. There's no one else with this badge around."

The long silence that follows is interrupted by the one and only master of elegance M-21 saying: "I didn't drink enough coffee to deal with this bullshit" before leaving the room, dragging his feet on the floor out of spite, some sort of small revenge against Frankenstein and his irritating perfection.

If it works, Frankenstein doesn't let it show. He is too busy trying to get Tao not to touch _anything_ , but Tao is like a magpie and it will take forever to convince him. Takeo watches, a tired smile on his face, as Frankenstein's peacock tail unfolds when Tao starts asking question after question on this or that badge.

He loves the household. Even if they're all weird as hell.

* * *

 _I headcanon that Raizel once found Frankenstein in the display case room polishing his badges and whispering "my precioussssss"._


End file.
